


The Enigma

by thomas_nooo



Category: Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
Genre: M/M, Mention of blood, Victor Is An Asshole, unhealthy relationship, used one line of the musical because i like it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 21:20:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21125417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thomas_nooo/pseuds/thomas_nooo
Summary: Victor Frankenstein was no doubt the most mysterious enigma Robert Walton had ever encountered.





	The Enigma

**Author's Note:**

> guys, this was written so late at night, english isnt my first language and i haven even read the book, just flung myself into a hyperfixation two days ago and made this enjoy?

Victor Frankenstein was, simply put, an impossible enigma.  
And incredibly interesting.  
And Robert Walton did not like him at first.  
The second he looked at him he was overcome with an inexplicable emotion of dislike and the very next moment it was gone but the impact wasn’t and he was simply fascinated by the other man. And then he was gone and Robert had other things to do and think about than mysterious handsome strangers.  
Their first actual conversation had to wait a few months from this before mentioned moment. And who would have thought things would end up like this. 

Observations of Victor Frankenstein 21st  
When one looked at Victor’s hands one would see pale delicate and thin skin stretched over bones. They were mostly seen gripping something tightly or twitching and turning in an almost disturbed way or fiddling with themselves.  
Robert had noticed through observation that Victor always found something to do with his hands, or rather had to out of a nervous tick and that he was mostly focused on the thumb nail of his right hand, which was unnaturally reflective. Not due to nail polish but rather something else. An odd behavior of his, where he would caress over it until it was essentially polished and shining.  
When asked why he responded with this.  
“Well,”, he pondered, “think of it like this: The brain needs a constant level of stimulation to function properly long-time.” (At that point he smashed his index finger into the side of his head.) “And mine does so more than others tend to. Now this stimulation level can be reached by many things like, oh you know, doing stuff with your hands, tapping, sometimes you need a bit more and it gets painful. Don't look at me like that.”, he said gesticulating. 

Victor could be fascinated. So very fascinated. Moments when passion overtook the otherwise so calm and reserved man and turned him into something else entirely. A shell of the former self, possessed by a fiery spirit of science.  
Robert would often be woken up by laughter at truly ungodly hours and make his way to the next room to find his boyfriend writing furiously, around him what was seemingly a tornado of scattered papers in the dark.  
When he returned with a new candle as a first step to even begin comprehending the situation because dammit it was 3 in the fucking morning he would find Frankenstein sobbing on the wet floor instead.  
Wet?  
Yes, stickily so.  
Colored, also.  
Blood?  
Yes. Where?  
He hurried to his lover’s side. “Where is this blood coming from, Victor?”, he cried as his voice reached another register entirely.  
Wordlessly but breathing heavily the scientist heaved his arms up to Robert as tears continued to stream from his eyes.  
“Do not blame me”, Victor choked out towards his boyfriend. Almost like an apology.  
Small stab wounds. So many. How?! And what was this…ink? He looked around frantically. Finally there, a fountain pen the offender.  
In the course of the next minutes this situation would progress to both men lying on the floor together after the wounds had been treated.  
“I love you.”  
All this trouble was definitely not worth it for hearing him say this, Robert thought.  
But he said it back anyway.  
So yes, Victor could be passionate. So much so, that it could be scary. A curse even. He could be unseeing of anything, focused only on his insane goal, leaving Robert uncared for to himself. But he followed Victor anyway. Because that’s what love was.  
Right?

Other times they would fight.  
They would fight and hurt each other with no care.  
One time Victor had given him an ugly scar by throwing a vase directly at his head, and Robert would never forget the look in his eyes so full of hate when he did it.  
The conversation leading up to this incident looked a bit like this:  
“-but it doesn’t make any sense, so why?”  
“Well, Robert, why do you care, it is clearly not any of your business, is it?”  
Victor, annoyed, hurried a little faster in hope that his lover might give up trying to talk to him.  
Robert, also annoyed, walked quicker.  
“Will you just stop for one moment and listen to me! I want to be a part of your life, you know. And I don’t appreciate you making me feel like an inconvenience when you feel like it.”, spoken in truth, the captain grabbed his lover’s hand and spun him around.  
15 minutes later  
Both were screaming now and Robert had tears in his eyes.  
“I am the Innocent, and I am the Damned!”  
“You keep going on and on about this but only talk in cryptic messages and whenever I ask about what you hide from me you avoid my questions! I hate it! Maybe you are inconveniencing me!”  
The sentence not even fully formed on his lips had Victor already grabbed the vase and flung it at him. Robert was quick enough to take on arm up as defense. It shattered and pieces of it cut open his forearm and the left side of his face.  
And although Victor had come up to him and helped him with dabbing alcoholic solution on the cuts, scars still remember. Forever.

**Author's Note:**

> well, you made it, if you liked it i would appreciate kudos


End file.
